Behind my mask
by LaurelSilver
Summary: Ivan is the great superhero General Zima; respected, idolized, feared... and completely head-over-heels for a certain Canadian shape-shifter. But with Hero's questionable stalk-and-tell habits, Laurd and Green-ouille's hatred for each other, and Ghost's secret-extracting stare, will Zima and Maple ever meet face to face? T for swearing, also with human (and cheesy hero) names.


Ivan tugs nervously at his scarf, flustered before he's even arrived at this damned party. Damn Hero, and damn his stupid ideas.

Yes; it was optically-named 'Hero's idea to have this 'unmasking party'. The party itself hadn't taken long to plan as 'Maple', named after the strong scent of maple that hangs around the shapeshifter, taking almost everything into xier own hands. 'Green-ouille' had offered to bring some of his own 'cuisine', starting yet another argument between him and 'Laurd'. In the end, the party is being held at Maple's house, with Green-ouille, Laurd and 'Kai di Mao' bringing food (Laurd swearing blind that he can bake), Hero bringing music and Ivan, or 'General Zima' bringing alcohol, which he's sure will be desperately needed.

Maple's address is of that of a fairly small house on the outskirts of the city. The garden is tidy and organised, the house front is clean, a sizeable truck stands in the drive; all in all, it looks like a generic house, no different from any other in the neighbourhood. No one would ever suspect that the idolised superhero Maple lives here, and no one would ever suspect that the respected superhero General Zima is standing awkwardly on the front doorstep, the lack of music from within making him question his address-reading skills.

He knocks quickly and loudly, withdrawing his hand before he leaves little patterns of ice in the wood. A mask of cold, thick iron is pulled from his forehead to its familiar position in front of his face, the thickness of it over his cheeks and around his eyes hiding the abnormally large nose Ivan has always been quietly embarrassed by.

It takes less than a minute for the door to open to a strawberry blond in a polar bear mask. Xie is smaller than Ivan, which isn't exactly a feat given the Russian's hulking size. Xier clothes are casual; a Canadian hockey shirt, jeans and converse compared to Ivan's purple button-down shirt under his black suit and beloved white scarf. And Ivan knows he is definitely at the right house as the scent of maple smacks him in the face like a brick wall (although, from Ivan's experiences, actual brick walls to the face are no where near as pleasant).

"Zima?" Maple asks, already quiet voice muffled by the mask, "You know the party starts at seven, right?"

Ivan double-takes, then checks his watch to discover that he had misread his clock, leading him to arrive at Maple's home just before six.

"It's fine; come inside," Maple says, a slight laugh dancing across his little voice, "I'm almost ready, anyway."

Ivan follows Maple inside, a little wary of the low doorways, "Sorry. I was nervous and the clock lied to me."

Maple laughs, "Really, Zima, it's fine. I think we'll all be a little nervous."

"Is that why you're wearing a mask too?" Ivan asks.

"Yeah, I just don't want to be the odd one out," Maple says, Canadian accent warping his pronunciation of 'out'.

"That makes sense," Ivan says, hoping to continue the conversation, hoping to catch more of that adorable accent.

Yes; Ivan Braginski, the respected superhero General Zima, is head over heels for a person he doesn't know the face, size or even the gender of. Obviously it isn't a pretty face he's fallen for, but a gentle voice, a sharp tongue, and a cute little accent. A love for hockey, polar bears, and a warm coffee on a cold day. A kind personality, with a determination to help without the arrogance to demand thanks, and a selfless wish to simply make others happy.

The only person who knows about Ivan's little crush is 'Ghost'. Ghost is a superhero of German decent, close friends with Green-ouille, 'Torojo', 'Viking' and Hero, and the older brother of Ivan's friend 'Terminator'. Ghost had been sitting in the canteen eating pancakes smothered in maple syrup, making everything within a five metre radius of him smothered in the scent of maple. Ivan had been waiting for Terminator to finish asking the cute brunette assistant out (which, as Terminator would turn bright red and start spluttering as soon as he came anywhere near the boy, would probably take a long time) and had ended up sitting with Ghost as he waited, drawn by the maple scent. Ghost's superpowers don't officially cover getting people to pour their heart and soul into his ears, but the crimson eyes drilling holes in your head from behind his skull-mask force you into admit your deepest, darkest secrets to him.

"Thinking about it," and there's Maple's accent again, "I shouldn't have volunteered to have the party here. My home is so simplistic."

"It's lovely," Ivan argues, "The place does not matter."

"Still," Maple says, setting a tray of six glasses down on the coffee table, "Even the things I own are basic. It'd be nice present you all with something nicer-looking, especially with Green-ouille being as pretentious as he is."

"I can make the glass pretty," Ivan suggests. Maple freezes, staring at Ivan with xier head cocked, unimaginable expression probably puzzled. Ivan reaches out to the glasses, resting two thick fingers on the rim of the closest glass to him.

Frost branches from his fingers as he focuses, forming patterns of swirls and lines, until the entire glass is frosted over. A few seconds more, and a select few of the frozen flakes melt, spelling out the word M-A-P-L-E across the side of the glass.

Maple gasps, little noises of awe escaping xier throat, and Ivan is suddenly very grateful for the mask covering his reddening face. "That's amazing!"

"It was my little sister's favourite trick," Ivan smiles, "She would often come running in with a collection of bottles and other random glass she'd found, going "Vanya! Vanya! Make these pretty?" And I would do every single one of them, every single time."

"That's sweet," Maple says, smile audiable, "And 'Vanya'?" Ivan's face reddens further, the hulking superhero retreating into his scarf like a turtle into their shell, and Maple laughs lightly, "No, it's nice! It kind of suits you."

"Spas- Thank you, but it's not really my name, it's-"

"Wait!" Maple uncharacteristically interrupts, "Wait until everyone's here; for the grand unveiling!"

As much as Ivan wants to say no, and tell Maple his name and for Maple to tell him xiers and them both to take off their masks and finally meet as just them without the rest of the team the Leaders had sorted them into, the sparkles of happiness dancing through Maple's voice and erupting from xier soft body makes Ivan smile and nod in agreement.

The hour passes quickly, with short, light conversations flitting between Ivan and Maple as Maple finishes setting a few items out and Ivan patiently frosts over the glasses, Maple having to help him a little with the spelling (and having to scold him for trying to tell xiem that he genuinely thought 'Hero' is spelt D-I-C-K-H-E-A-D).

At seven, on the dot, Green-ouille 'jumps', meaning he literally appears out of thin air, into a chair in Maple's house. Green-ouille mask is white and covers most of his face, the mask painted with powdery glitters until it has hollow cheeks, plump red lips, and dark shadowy eyeliner. His green costume has been replaced with a neat, and probably expensive, suit, and his shoulder-length blond hair is loose, burying the string of the mask amongst its gold.

Maple takes a deep breath, recovering from Green-ouille literally appearing in xier house (and Ivan may or may not be trying to glare a hole in the Frenchman's hidden face) Maple politely takes the plate of food and bottles of wine from him, pouring him a glass of one of the wines.

"The glasses are beautiful, Maple," Green-ouille gushes, examining the delicate frost.

"Oh, Zima did that," Maple says, Ivan's fore-fading blush returning with a vengance.

Green-ouille 'jumps' to sit next to Ivan, praising him, his hand a little too high up the Russian's thigh for his comfort. There is a knock at the door and Maple scurries off to answer it, leaving Ivan and Green-ouille alone, and Ivan shoves the flirtatious superhero away with a growl, causing Green-ouille to laugh that horrid nasal laugh of his.

It's Laurd at the door. Followed by Kai di Mao. And Hero saunters in fifteen minutes late without a Starbucks.

Of course, Laurd and Green-ouille start squabbling almost straight away. Kai di Mao just sits down, nodding a hello to Ivan and snatching up one of his own offerings as Maple pulls away its clingfilm. Hero announces his arrival, laughs at the argument, eats half the snacks to himself, and by the time he hollers that "It's hero-unveiling time, dudes!" it's already half-past seven.

"Who's going first?" Kai di Mao asks. Kai di Mao is the smallest of the team, and the most hard-working. His superpowers include talking to and commanding animals, and he has personally trained to be able to fight until he has black belts in a number of branches in a number of martial arts, and is the only member of the team able to hold his own against Hero's superstrength without resorting to his superpowers (Ivan being the only one to have bested him by dodging him until Hero began to sweat, then freezing the sweat to his temples until the brainfreeze had forced him to surrender). Kai di Mao's costume consists of a white cat mask over his entire head usually with a traditional karate gi, but he now sports a comfortable-looking red tunic with trousers.

"Well, obviously I should," Hero says, "Because I'm the Hero!"

"That is not a legitimate reason," Laurd snaps, "Nor is it equal, nor is it fair."

"We can spin the bottle," Maple suggests, holding up a now-empty wine bottle.

"That's better; thank you, Maple," Laurd says. Laurd is of average height, his average body covered by a great cloak, his cloak's hood shadowing his entire face, with only the occasional glimpse of slightly uneven teeth and/or bright green eyes visible.

Maple puts the bottle on the floor, Hero 'helpfully' moving the coffee table out of the way by shoving it against the wall with enough force to damage the plaster, and spins it, a few drops of bright red wine flicking onto the cream carpet, and Ivan frowns at the small tut Maple makes. The bottle spins, fast at first and slows down, the neck pointing at Ivan like the barrel of a gun (although, from Ivan's experiences, staring down the actual barrel of a gun is a lot less terrifying).

To the tune of Hero cheering 'Come on, Ruski!' and Laurd telling the obnoxious Hero off, General Zima takes his heavy metal mask between his hands and pulls it away to reveal...

"Big-nose Braginski?!" Hero hollers, "Oh my god, dude, no way!"

Ivan visibly flinches at the old name, ancient yet still sensitive scars re-opening. "And I am guessing you are either Gilbert, Alfred or Soren?"

"Alfred!" Hero answers, tearing the generic red-and-blue mask from his head to reveal a shock of blond hair and equally shocking blue eyes. He pulls a pair of glasses out of his pocket, setting them on his nose. "D'you recognise me now? God, I can't believe I didn't recognise you before!"

"Believe me; the wonder is mutual," Ivan growls through gritting teeth.

"Okay, right, I'm Alfred Freedom Jones, and this great Russian lug is Eye-van Braginski!"

"Ee-vahn!" Ivan snaps, "I am Russian; we do not have an 'eye' sound in Russian language; it is pronounced Ee-vahn!"

"Alright, dude, calm your tits!"

"And I suppose you two know each other?" Laurd asks sharply.

"Yeah, we went to school together," Alfred answers, "What're the odds, huh?"

"Obviously not in my favour," Ivan mumbles. The only superhero to hear him is Maple, who snorts in laughter, earning xiemself a confused look from Alfred.

"Just spin the bottle again," Laurd says, Green-ouille mimicking him pedantically.

Maple spins the bottle quickly before a fight between Laurd and Green-ouille can break out. Again, it spins fast and slows down, landing on Alfred.

"Well, that's just a blunt pencil!" Laurd comments sarcastically.

"That means I get to pick who goes next, "Alfred yells, "And I pick; Laurd!"

Ivan's eyes roll, and judging by Maple's sigh Maple knows as well as he does; Hero has the biggest crush on Laurd. Alfred swears blind that he has seen Laurd's face, and Ivan has overheard him more than once bragging to Ghost and Viking about him, and, under Ghost's stare, has admitted to basically stalking Laurd, but for reasons unknown neither Ghost nor Viking haver passed it on to the Leaders, and Ivan just keeps out of matters like this that just aren't his business and could get complicated.

Both Laurd's hands creep out of his cloak, a first since Laurd usually uses his right hand to cast his telekinesis so his left hand remains hidden, revealing long, thin fingers and gold band on his left hand, which turns Alfred's face white as it shines there on Laurd's wedding finger. Laurd shoves his hood back to reveal messy sandy hair, a sharp face with sun-glowed skin forest green eyes opening as he smiles lopsidedly to reveal his slightly crooked white teeth.

The tense silence is broken by a shocked gasp form Green-ouille, at which Laurd's handsome face falls into a frown. "What's wrong with you, frog-breath? Didn't expect me to be this good-looking?"

After an uncharacteristic pause, the usually quick-witted French super-hero chuckles, "No, I admit I did not. And I can only hope that you tell us your name is Dylan, but I don't think-"

He is forced to stop as he flies across the room, held against the wall by an invisible psychic force, specifically by his throat judging by his choking. Laurd walks towards him, right hand raised in a chokehold in Green-ouille's direction, teeth gritting in a mixture of anger and fear.

"How the hell do you know my brother?" Laurd demands.

Green-ouille reaches down, his wedding ring (one of the thing Laurd detests about Green-ouille being his flirtatious nature when he has a spouse at home) glinting as he strains to speak, "Let me down... Lapin, please let me breathe..."

Laurd's hand jerks away as if Green-ouille has thrown hot oil over his skin, and Green-ouille drops to the floor, gasping for air, the word 'Lapin' tumbling from his covered lips. Laurd dashes to him in a matter of seconds, ripping the mask away to reveal smooth skin shadowed by a subtle beard and huge blue eyes.

"Francis?" Laurd asks the face, jaw slack.

"Oui, Lapin?"

'Lapin' splutters helplessly and Francis drags him into a gentle hug, whispering something to him, and to everyone's surprise Laurd doesn't shove him away swearing in his face.

"I'll suppose you two know each other too, huh?" Of course, it would be Alfred who interrupts the scene.

After another couple of whispers from Francis, Laurd stands, hand interlaced with Francis's, and leads the Frenchman back to the team. They sit side-by-side, Francis having to shove at Alfred until the 'Hero' reluctantly gives them room to do so.

A few seconds of silent conversation between the couple, and Laurd speaks; "My name is Arthur Kirkland-Bonnefoy, and this is my husband Francis Kirkland-Bonnefoy."

A tense moment of silence, confusion ringing deafeningly, which is (of course) broken by Alfred; "Dude, I was shocked I didn't recognise Big-nose Braginski here, but not recognising your own _husband_ is something else."

"I'll be honest; I should have been able to put two and two together," Arthur laughs aloud, "I feel stupid. I even thought of his name, would you believe?"

"Oui, a pun on 'Grunouille'."

"What's 'Grunouille' mean?" Alfred asks.

"Frog," Francis answers, "A joke on my French heritage, and the fact that I 'jump'. And 'ouille' is the French version of 'ouch'. And 'Green' again referring to frog, and the fact that I have always have a thing for green eyes."

"And it never dawned on you when you met a man who was blond, French and married, just like your husband, using the name that you had thought up for your husband, that; "Ho-hum, this bloke might just be my hubby-dear!"?" Alfred asks, 'English' accent painfully bad, "In fact, did it not dawn on you when you met a man with exactly the same superpowers as your husband?"

"I asked him it as a theoretical question when we'd just met," Francis says, smiling nostalgically.

"You two have said some awful things to each other," Kai di Mao comments quietly.

"We did that before we started dating," Arthur shrugs, "And the entire time we were dating. And throughout our engagement. And our marriage. We just fight all the time. My sister locked us in a room together just after we first met. We argued, had hate-sex, and were dating a week later."

"You two have a fucked-up relationship," Alfred deadpans.

The couple simply nod. They look across at each other, giggle, and kiss. Alfred grimaces, and Ivan has to suppress his laughter at the jealous glares Alfred sends Francis's way.

"Well, uh, come on Kai di Mao," Maple says, "Let's get our masks off and see if we secretly know each other, eh?"

The room is once again silent as, in almost complete unison, Kai di Mao and Maple lift the masks from their heads.

Kai di Mao is definitely of Chinese, or at least East-Asian, origin (which had been deducted by the team after they'd heard him speaking Chinese to his brother over the phone, but none wanted to just assume because that would be considered racist) with long, dark hair tied into a ponytail with a length of ribbon. Laughter lines lace his face, mostly around his eyes, which when coupled with the strands of silver lining his ponytail suggest he's the oldest on the team.

Maple's strawberry blond hair falls forwards, framing the soft face and lavender eyes. Xier lips are pulled up into a gentle smile, and it had apparently been warm under xier mask judging by the soft blush across xier cheeks.

"Nope, never met you before in my life," Maple says bluntly, making both xiemself and Kai di Mao laugh, "Thinking about it, I should have let you take your mask off first then shapeshifted into you; make everyone think we're long-lost twins or something."

"Whatever you did, you'd struggle to beat realising you're married," Alfred sticks his two cents in.

"You're never going to be able to get over that, are you?" Arthur asks, smirking.

"No. No I am not." Alfred says, and Ivan once again has to suppress his laughter.

"Well, my name is Yao Wang-" Kai di Mao, or Yao, is interrupted as Alfred begins to splutter with laughter, and Yao sighs, "It's not that funny."

"Your name is _Wang_," Alfred laughs, "What kind of a name is _Wang_?!"

"A Chinese one!"

"A funny one! Come one, Maple, tell us your name, and I swear to god if it's something like 'Richard P. Dick' I will just _die_!"

"Matthew Williams." Maple snaps.

"Oh. That's kinda anticlimactic, to be honest," Alfred says. On one hand, Ivan is glad Alfred doesn't have a reason to poke fun at Maple (Matthew, _Matthew_, that's a nice name) he has to admit he's a little disappointed the name didn't cause Alfred to die.

"So why the names?" Alfred asks, perking up again, "I'm 'Hero' because I'm the Hero, obviously, and Francis is 'Green-ouille' because of reasons he's already explained. but why, like... 'Laurd'?"

"I invented it when I was a kid," Arthur explains, "'Laurd' originally came from 'Lord' like not-quite-a-prince, if that makes any sense whatsoever, and I mixed in the word 'aura' because at that age I didn't understand that I had telekinesis but I could sense auras. Don't ask me how telekinesis and aura-sensing are linked; I haven't the foggiest. My oldest brother said it looked like 'Laura' or 'Laurel' when I wrote it free hand, and my sister kinda hated me after I became famous because of the religious connotations behind it, but I never really cared about either of their opinions. Not until my sister stopped talking to me, but there's not really a lot I can do about it now, is there?"

"So, wait, your siblings knew about your superpowers, but your husband didn't?" Alfred interrupts.

"Well, it's a difficult conversation to strike up, isn't it?" Arthur turns to Francis, "I need to tell you, darling; I can do telekinesis."

And with a straight face, looking his spouse directly in the eye, Francis answers; "Sex will certainly be getting interesting."

Arthur laughs, mumbling something about Francis being a "dirty bastard", and hitting him playfully and kissing him, causing Alfred to (once again) grimace and Ivan to (once again) suppress his laughter.

"What about you, Big-nose?" Alfred asks Ivan, and Ivan growls at the old name but Alfred either doesn't notice or ignores it, "What's 'Zima' mean?"

"Winter," Ivan says bluntly, "It's Russian. You can work the rest out for yourself."

"Yeah but why 'General'? Why not something like 'Captain'?"

"Because 'Captain' sounds like a cereal mascot."

Matthew laughs aloud at his comment, a few of the others giving a short snort, but Alfred just scowls.

"My little brother thought of mine," Yao says before Alfred can retort, "It means 'Hello Kitty'."

"Like the merchandise?" Matthew asks.

"Yes, and because I used to talk to our cat a lot, which Young-Soo, that's one of my brothers, named 'Kitty' because he wasn't very creative when he was little."

"I don't actually know where my name came from; you guys named me," Matthew says.

"It was actually Big-nose here that named you," Alfred gestures to Ivan, and Ivan suppresses his desire to freeze Alfred's blood in his veins.

"Yes; the only way we- or, at least, I- could tell who you were was that you always smell of maple," Ivan explains, retreating into his scarf as (yet another) blush enflames his face, this time without his cold mask to protect him. He hadn't actually known that the smell had been maple at first; it was Ghost who had told him the same day the German had stared his secrets out of him. Ghost had been eating that plate of pancakes smothered in maple syrup and it had been the smell that had draw Ivan to him, leading up to that terrible conversation.

"Dude, you've been sniffing him?" Alfred says disgustedly, "That's creepy."

"No, I have not been sniffing anyone."

"Are you sure? Your nose is big enough."

"That is not even relevant! And even if I had been sniffing anyone, it's nowhere near as creepy as following Laurd home!"

"You did what?!" Arthur shouts, Francis glaring.

"I did not do that!"

"Really?" Ivan asks, "Then why were you bragging to Ghost and Viking about it?"

"I wasn't!"

"You were, outside the gym. Ghost was waiting for Terminator, and I had been in the gym with you and Terminator, and you left first, and when I left you were just outside with Ghost and Viking bragging about it."

"I was not! You're lying!"

"Really? Shall we call one of them? I have Terminator's number in my phone, and I'm sure he'll have Ghost's number, who'll have Viking's number-"

"No! We don't need to do that, because it's not true!"

"If it's not true then Ghost and Viking will say it's not true, won't they?"

Alfred pauses, glaring at Ivan until he sighs; "No they won't, because I did say that, but! I made it up!"

"Why would you make something like that up?" Arthur demands.

Alfred shrugs.

"Because he's an obnoxious dickhead who just needs something to brag about," Matthew says darkly, ""Whether you actually did it or not, it's not exactly appropriate, is it?"

"I agree," Yao says, pulling a phone from his pocket and typing on it quickly.

"What're you doing?" Alfred asks cautiously.

"Messaging the Leaders," Yao says simply. At the expressions of the others, a mixture of confusion (Arthur, Francis and Matthew), amusement (Ivan) and fear (Alfred), Yao explains; "We can't have Alfred on the team after this. It's inappropriate, unprofessional, and if it's ever proven that Alfred did stalk Arthur, it's criminal."

"You can't prove that I did!" Alfred shouts.

"We can't prove you didn't, either!"

"You can not prove that I did it! Nobody saw me; you can't prove anything!"

Silence settles as the team simply stare at Alfred, expressions ranging from shocked (Arthur) to amused (Ivan), then, as the meaning behind the words settle back into the speaker, 'Hero' groans and buries his head in his hands, muttering "Fuck..." to himself."

Within an hour, the Leaders have sent someone to remove Hero from the premises, Hero openly glaring at Ivan as he is dragged away. Ivan condensingly waves goodbye, earning himself a vow of vengeance which is scoffed away. Yao rides in the front of the reinforced prison-truck, intending to explain the situation to the Leaders and help find a new member of the team (he's had his eye on a brave young Australian calling himself 'Crokey'). The Kirkland-Bonnefoys excuse themselves and, with Francis's arms wrapped tightly around Arthur, 'jump' back to their home.

"So, I've got a bottle of wine, three bottles of vodka and a decent amount of food left," Matthew says, laughing a little, "What am I supposed to do with all this, eh?"

"I can take the alcohol off your hands," Ivan suggests. At Matthew's confused, and slightly concerned, expression, Ivan explains; "Alcohol has a much lower freezing point than most other liquids, so I end up drinking a lot of it. Usually vodka, because I can pretend it's water. Until I drink it."

"So you can't really control it?" Matthew asks, "That's kinda sad."

"Yes, but I'm used to it," Ivan shrugs, "What about you?"

"I can mostly control it. Finding out about it was an accident though; I was playing with my friends at school and I was pretending to be one of our teachers and I just shapeshifted into her. Most of my friends didn't care, they actually thought it was pretty cool, but the next day they all avoided me. Obviously they'd gone home, told their parents and their parents told them to stay away from me."

"That's terrible," Ivan says pathetically, unable to think of anything better to say.

Matthew just smiles thinly, getting up and leaving to the kitchen, leaving Ivan sitting awkwardly. Xie returns with a pair of clean glasses, a bottle of maple syrup and a small whisk. Xie takes a bottle of vodka, filling up both glasses and adding a generous amount of maple syrup to one and whisking it, the syrup discolouring the vodka.

"Want some?" Matthew holds the maple syrup over the second glass.

"No; I drink it plain," Ivan says, taking the vodka-only glass.

"I couldn't do that!" Matthew laughs, taking a sip of xier own drink.

"You really do like maple syrup, don't you?"

"Yep. To the extent that I apparently smell of it!" Matthew says. "But then... could you recognise me when I was pretending to be Ghost?"

"No, I've never noticed."

"Oh. Well, I did. And I talked to you. In fact, I think it might have been me who told you that the smell was maple, because I was having maple syrup on my pancakes. I'd shapeshifted into him to beat Hero in a stare-down, because literally no one can survive being stared down by Ghost. Not even you."

Ivan stares emptily at xiem until it dawns on him; it wasn't Ghost he had told his crush on Maple to, but Maple xiemself!

Matthew giggles as Ivan's face falls in shock and an angry red spreads across his cheek. "Don't be embarrassed; I thought it was cute! The big, scary General Zima blushing and gushing like a school kid in love! And over me!"

"That's not helping..." Ivan mumbles, covering his flaming face with is hands, the cold of his fingers battling with the hot of his cheeks.

"If it makes you feel any better, I like you too," Matthew admits quietly, "I think it's adorable that a big, tough guy like you is actually really sweet: making glass pretty for your sister, blushing when you're embarrassed, pulling on your scarf when you're nervous, the fact you wear the scarf just because your sister made it for you -that's where you got it from, right? You told Ghost that, too- the fact you let your sister call you by your pet name."

"Please stop..." Ivan whines, face too hot for even his cold hands to defeat.

"Is it Ivan or Vanya?" Matthew asks.

Ivan lowers his hands to find Matthew sat directly next to him, and his cheeks flare up even further, "Ivan, usually, but people close to me usually call me Vanya?"

"Can I call you Vanya?"

"Yes." And Ivan's cheeks invent a new shade of red called 'fucking bright'.

"What about me?" once again, there's the accent, "There isn't a 'th' sound in the Russian alphabet, is there?"

"No."

"You can call me 'Mattie', if that's easier for you. I mean, I kinda hated it as a kid because it sounded like 'Maddie' but I can live with it."

"Or Matvei?" Vanya suggests.

"Matvei?" Xie repeats the word a few times until it rolls perfectly off xier tonuge, "I like it. Are you doing anything on Friday?"

"No."

"How about Vargas Pizzeria, than?"

"I like the sound of that."

And as Matvei snuggles into Vanya, Vanya's violent blush refusing to budge, in the back of a reinforced van hurtling away from them, an ex-superhero now calling himself 'Villian' begins to plot his revenge.

* * *

**Baskin RusCan (if you're a RusCan fan go check them out they're amazing) prompt May 2014; Write or draw the two as superheroes. What powers would you give them? What would their costumes look like? Are they heroes or villians? Are they on the same side?  
Completely forgot about the costumes. Oops.**

**Tojoro is Spain. The name is a mashup of 'Bull' and 'Red'.  
Viking (or Soren) is Denmark.  
Ghost is Prussia  
Terminator is Germany (don't even ask)  
The brunette receptionist is Italy  
Young-Soo (Yao's brother) is South Korea  
The Leaders are the Ancients. Grandpa Rome is officially in charge, but Germania does most of the work or else everything would be in shambles  
Crokey is Australia, the name being a mix of 'Crikey' (whoo stereotypes) and 'Croc' (like crocodiles not the shoes)**

**Germany, Russia and America are totally gym buddies. They have competitions to see who can bench-press their partner the longest (America always loses because he shows off and doesn't pace himself and gets tired)  
**

******As a writer, this was practise at writing about love that doesn't just run back to appearance all the time. I suppose it could be argued that Ivan is pansexual in this fic.  
This is also the first time I've ever used gender neutral pronouns, but I wouldn't call that 'practise' as they're used in literally the same way as gendered pronouns.**  


**I own nothing, especially not the wonderful Baskin RusCan  
It's been a while since I've wrote something of this length  
-Laurel Silver**


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